When The Stars Line Up
by munchkinjenny05
Summary: Senior year hasn't turned out the way Quinn expected and prom isn't likely to be the night that turns all her misfortunes around, or so she thinks. However, her intention to boycott the event isn't so easy to stick to when somebody else has other plans...


**This story is dedicated to ****Santitaomily**** because she had the idea of Rachel giving Quinn another corsage and I shamelessly stole it as a prompt. I hope she, and the rest of you readers, like the way my brain interpreted the idea. **

**I couldn't resist some Quangst because I have a lot of feelings about the recent plot. This story is mostly cannon up to 316 and then it goes its own way. Anyway, enjoy. Here's a little something to ponder before you begin:**

'_**We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.' -**_** William Somerset Maugham**

The first thing that struck Quinn about the letter waiting on her porch was that, although the envelope was pale yellow, her favourite colour, her name was typed rather than handwritten. It was strange, obvious that those two things didn't fit together, the business like style of addressing the envelope and the handpicked, carefully chosen nature of the stationery and the clash was jarring to her eyes. She could only guess that whoever had sent her this didn't want their handwriting to be recognised, putting any number of her friends in the frame for the surprise delivery. The girl didn't ponder the identity of the individual for long though because, in fact, her mind went blank as she opened the envelope and the ticket fluttered out.

The blonde was flabbergasted; she couldn't get her head around the fact that somebody genuinely wanted her to go to the prom with them. She assumed at once that it must be a misunderstanding at best or a cruel joke at worst. After all, everybody knew that she wasn't going. She had been adamant. Initially, weeks before, there had been the suggestion that the girl would go with Artie, as friends, but his enthusiasm for this plan had waned around the time she stopped using her wheelchair full time and soon his proposal, and their entire friendship essentially, had ended as abruptly as it began, seeming like a surreal dream. Quinn only wished she could wake up from the nightmare that had become her life. Nevertheless, she shook off the hurt at least so far as Artie's invitation was concerned, because it wasn't like she was looking forward to the night anyway. So far as the blonde could see, there was no point; she had bowed out of the race for Prom Queen, deciding that pity votes weren't the way she wanted to win, yet that was virtually her only guarantee of success. Moreover, when all the possible circumstances were considered, the other side of the coin didn't look much better. The fact was this, if her peers didn't indulge her in the necessary, although patronising, popularity surge, there was the chance that they might laugh her off the stage. Quinn remembered all too well the fate that seemed to befall the underdog at Mckinley High.

On the rare occasions when her resolve looked set to shatter, she consoled herself with the undeniable truth of her new reality, dancing. Her shortcomings were unavoidable. The girl glared at the crutches that were propped against the coffee table, taunting her. She pushed them to the floor and safely out of her line of sight. She knew what everybody was thinking, same as she was, that those crutches symbolised her temporary stumbling block becoming a permanent brick wall. Quinn, for one, was sick of banging her fists against it. Nothing was happening the way in it was supposed to, the time-line was off and the clock was winding down. It was now or never, school was ending and New Haven loomed. Basically, her fate was out of her hands, and although she wasn't happy about the truth, she couldn't change it.

The blonde had resigned herself to a lonely evening in front of the TV, trying to lose herself in a flurry saccharine moments unfolding for someone else. She wasn't a glutton for punishment, and the circus of the senior prom offered her nothing but plenty of both. Enough was enough, so she refused a ticket, but now she not only had been given one, but had been offered potential date as well it seemed. Quinn wracked her brains once more about who the candidate could be, but remained in the dark about her mystery suitor. Frustrated, she read the note again, looking for clues, but the meagre lines revealed nothing.

**Don't miss your chance at a fairytale ending. Meet me outside Breadstix at 7. **

The message had been kept deliberately short, so she was no closer to an answer. There was no poetic spin on the writing or characteristics that betrayed who may have sent it. A member of the Glee Club was the obvious choice, since their reactions to her anti-prom stance indicated that they might try something like this, but they all had dates and being third wheel didn't exactly fit with the image of fairytales. The suggestion that it wasn't a senior was also rejected by her psyche for being laughable. Quinn Fabray was no cradle snatcher.

"Maybe I've got it all wrong; there is only one ticket at any rate. Perhaps they just want to create the impression that it's a date, so like the sucker I am, I'll show up and once I'm there they can drag me into the auditorium kicking and screaming. I'll be trapped, a hostage to forced merriment." She shuddered at the mental picture conjured up, but was ultimately inclined to admit that the notion appeared more realistic than a secret admirer. "I won't go, that's the end of it." The girl rose to her feet and with some considerable effort, travelled the short distance to the kitchen. She threw the envelope in the trash, note and all and didn't give them a second glance.

Days later, when she had forgotten all about the possibility of mystery admirers, and all thoughts of the prom were eclipsed by the bustle of the final days of the school year, Santana approached Quinn as she was attempted to sort out her locker, wrestling with books and binders. The Latina joined in wordlessly for a moment "I have a favour to ask." She remarked at long last. The implication pained her, that much was apparent and the Latina wore a grimace that forced the other girl to bite her lip to stifle a giggle.

She smirked. "Ask away."

"Just like that?" The cheerleader raised her eyebrows sceptically. The blonde wasn't surprised at this slightly cynical reaction, these days her friends didn't know which version of Quinn Fabray they were going to encounter. Her moods were more up and down than Mercedes blood sugar levels after Booty Camp.

She nodded emphatically. "I said you can ask, not that I'd say yes."

"Fine. I was just wondering if you'd come dress shopping with me. I was going to ask Berry, but well, speaking in the nicest way possible in the spirit of our newly forged friendship, the midget isn't exactly known for her wardrobe expertise. I want to look hot, not like an overgrown toddler playing dress up. I bet she has to get her dresses made at a special store for the vertically challenged anyway."

Quinn cringed. She ignored the strong urge to chastise Santana, seeing her leaping to Rachel's defence would be a distraction for the other girl, but not in the way she wanted. Regardless, her friend's request presented her with more than enough problems of her own. For starters, the department store at this time of year would be hellish, she'd have to take her wheelchair, and aside from that, every time she turned a corner she would be reminded of what she was missing out on. "Sorry San, I can't."It made her heart hurt to refuse; she used to live for things like this. She thought back to the year before, the fun she and Brittany had trying on dresses. The cheerleader had insisted on dancing in everyone, as a point of suitability, and after narrowing it down to three choices, she eventually did a cartwheel across the store before settling on a final handstand to help her decide. Brittany claimed that the rush of blood to her head was necessary if she was going to make the right choice, and continued oblivious to Quinn's protests or the fact that in doing so, she was flashing the other customers. Laughter bubbled up at the memory before it was swallowed it down, leaving a sour taste. "Can't you ask Britt to help?" She choked out.

"Did the crash give you brain damage or something? Of course I can't ask B, I want to look nice for her and if she sees the dress beforehand it won't be special. Duh, get a clue Fabray." She rolled her eyes indignant. The blonde scowled, Santana's words were hardly winning her over. The memory of her accident was still too raw to joke about and if she hadn't been reluctant to help before, she definitely was now.

She didn't hesitate to spew her own fire in return. "I thought lesbians liked to match, you should just get the same dress and be done with it." It was a low blow, and Quinn knew she was navigating thin ice with her comment in light of the Latina's legendary temper but win or lose the war of words, she couldn't bear having this conversation any more.

Santana growled and looked like she was inches away from making the other girl regret her remarks, however, instead of lashing out again she simply crossed her arms. "You are coming with me." It was no longer a request. Quinn shrugged, she wasn't about to beg or pout.

Unfortunately, dress shopping proved to be everything that she imagined. Quinn went home feeling more than a little jaded. It felt like every time she blinked she could visualise sequins and tulle in a million gaudy shades lingering behind her eyes. She could scarcely believe that she used to enjoy that whole charade. In a year, everything she prized had turned into her personal hell. It was a sobering realisation. "Who am I now?" She asked the swirls of plaster that decorated her ceiling. Unsurprisingly, no answers were forthcoming.

The only thing that cheered her was the knowledge that her oldest friend's dress was stunning and worth every moment that had endured, longing to tear her hair out. All her negative feelings melted away when the Latina twirled in that chosen gown. It didn't last but even so, the blonde accepted that it must have been the fleeting romance of that visual that coerced her into trying on a dress of her own. Santana had insisted, and despite how silly and awkward she felt, the other girl had agreed. It was a mistake. She felt like a pumpkin, not a princess. It was awful, she was stooped and the material wouldn't fall right as a result. Quinn knew she looked pale and tired, and it would have been the same old story no matter what colour she chose. The girl thought then, as she avoided the mirror, that not going to the prom was the wisest decision she had made lately. It would have been a sight to behold, but not in a positive way, her stomach lurched as she pondered the events that had lead to this moment, the instance that the former Queen Bee had turned into a cockroach.

Nobody understood. They saw Quinn forsaking the prom as a knee-jerk reaction to her disappointing prognosis. They all told her that she shouldn't let it get her down, that she needed to make the best of things. They didn't understand. This gulf in comprehension was never wider than when it was witnessed in the Fabray household. Judy wasn't pleased about how adamantly adverse to prom night her daughter had suddenly become, and hounded her about the importance as though Quinn wasn't keenly aware of just how significant the event would have been to her under ordinary circumstances. The arguments on this subject were never resolved and cast a dark cloud over the house as a consequence, further dampening the girl's bleak mood. She was already feeling desolate, scared and unsure by the way that her Yale plans had been left in disarray. On top of that, she certainly didn't need her mother to tell her that this was her last chance to be a high-schooler, and that regardless of dates and dancing, it was her friends, and the final farewell atmosphere that she would be missing. Of course the graduation ceremony still remained, but that was a different. The idea of being absent cut like a blade, but the prospect of being there as she was, having broken her own promise to be walking again and taking steps to her shiny, happy ever after, hurt infinitely more. Quinn wasn't in the party mood and she didn't want to bring the others down, it wasn't fair. She had ruined too much this year.

Nevertheless, as the fabled night arrived, the blonde told herself that she was merely escaping the house and her mother's neurotic tendencies. Quinn tried in vain to convince herself that it was this, coupled with avid curiosity that caused her to fish the ticket out of the trash and drove her to Breadstix, and she pretended to have no other ulterior motives. "I'm just here to spy, find out who's behind this, that's all." She mumbled to herself, deeply caught in her lie as she rolled slowly towards the front of the building, cursing that she couldn't even stand for the duration of this stake-out. The chair made her stick out like a sore thumb, and all ideas of stealth surveillance were cast aside.

It was bustling in the confines of restaurant, full to the brim with kids meeting up or biding time until prom. The blonde had a flashback of last year and pushed it away. The rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia were a false friend, not to be trusted, sure she had salvaged something from the wreckage of that evening but that didn't mean it wasn't a night fraught with heartbreak and hopelessness. Quinn couldn't afford to be weakened by sentimentality, she had clearly taken a big risk coming here in any case and getting bombarded by wistful reminiscences wouldn't help. The girl was still ensnared by these memories when she was advanced upon, and appearance the familiar figure took her off guard. It would have anyway, but this was her excuse and she was sticking to it.

"Rachel?" It was a soft whisper, but her heart fluttered erratically nonetheless as the name left her lips. It made perfect sense for the brunette to be the one, who else cared half as much, who else reached out their hand time after time? Quinn hadn't wanted to put those pieces together, she didn't want to hope. The only thing that experience had taught her lately was that hope bred eternal misery. She held her breath. It was almost impossible to stop herself pulling the girl into a hug, so customary was that form of greeting between them now. Quinn didn't want Rachel to be aware of how fast her heart was pounding.

"I didn't think you'd come." Rachel retorted after a moment. The blonde looked at the other girl, wordlessly pleading that the brunette wasn't sorry she had. After all, bravery is always easier as an abstract concept, maybe standing before her now, Rachel regretted beckoning the other girl towards her yet again. That fear was diluted, if not utterly washed away, when she smiled. It was big and open, flooding her face with sincerity. Quinn mirrored the expression with a bashful grin of her own.

"Curiosity killed the cat, isn't that the phrase?"

"But, satisfaction brought it back." The brunette added quietly. Rachel brushed an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. "I do however assure you that you have nothing to fear with regards to my motives."

Quinn raised her eyebrow instinctively. "Don't I, so this isn't a guilt ridden sympathy thing then? Rachel, I've told you before, you did not cause my-" The other girl cut her off.

"I know, and that isn't why I invited you tonight, I promise. I was buying my ticket and I realised that going to the prom wouldn't feel right without you. We've been through so much together Quinn, I told you that this was our year to get it right and I meant it, every word."

Proceeding cautiously, the blonde asked the one question that could send everything crashing down. She refused to believe anything until she had her answer. "What about Finn?" It was physically painful to say the words, but she knew she had to.

"He's going stag with Puck this year." Rachel tried to keep her response casual, but Quinn saw the tears that threatened. She stared at the other girl, trying to keep her jaw from gaping open. She'd known they'd be having problems for a while, Finn felt overshadowed by the bright lights of New York, but she had no idea things were this serious.

"When did this happen?" The query tumbled out before she could stop it, and she hated how callous it made her seem, she hadn't even apologised or commiserated over the break-up. Sure Quinn was far from heartbroken, but she could have faked it, seeing as her friend was evidently struggling. "I'm sorry; you don't have to answer that." She stammered. Finn and Rachel were engaged after all, she couldn't just dismiss the significance of that, as much as she hadn't approved.

"It's okay; you have a right to know whether or not you are a rebound date." The use of that term, intentional or not made the blonde blush, and she buried her face behind her hair. The brunette was apparently clueless, busy with her explanation. "I think it finally all came crashing down when he said that he wanted me to be really sure that I was in love with him and not who I wanted him to be, and I become conscious that what he was afraid of was precisely what I had been doing. I was lost in the idea of a leading man by my side as my dreams came true, and he couldn't be what I needed. It wasn't right for either of us anymore." She paused, biting her lip, as though insecure about whether or not to utter her next sentence. The brunette witnessed the flood of colour, and her own cheeks turned a delicate pink. "All I know is that the future seemed really scary, but the prospect of having this night with you, it makes it seem less so. You seem to make things alright, Quinn."

There was so much to process and the blonde didn't know where to begin. "I'll always be there for you, Rach. You should have told me. Why did you keep it a secret, no, not why, I guess I understand that, I mean, how? You must have been in so much pain." It came out in a garbled mass of jumbled sentiments but the other girl seemed to understand.

Rachel shook her head. "I couldn't, I didn't deserve to be the victim, to have your sympathy, it was all my fault…" The girl crumpled then and Quinn thought nothing of surging forward to grasp the frail brunette, her arms encircling her body as she held her in her lap. She alternated between stroking her hair and rubbing calming circles across her palm. It was a tight squeeze with the two of them positioned like that but neither of them cared. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry, and this wasn't how I wanted things to go."

Quinn shook her head before tilting the other girl's face away from her shoulder so that her hazel eyes could connect with solemn brown orbs. "Listen to me, you have nothing to apologise for." She frowned. "If anything I should be the one, I've been so wrapped up in myself that I didn't notice, I haven't been a good friend to you, Rachel." Tears pricked her own eyes and she raised her hand to try and stem the tide before it began. The brunette noticed this and smiled weakly.

"We're a fine pair, aren't we?" The blonde only nodded, unable to speak. Now that the smaller girl's tears had subsided it struck her how tightly their bodies were entwined, and she fought not to blush again, her breathing quickening of its own accord. A few moments passed like that, with Quinn just holding Rachel, until she was unable to take anymore and cleared her throat. The brunette took the hint and got to her feet, slightly flushed herself. The awkward silence that followed stretched tenuously between them, waiting for one girl to crack and break it. It was Rachel who caved first. "I got you something." She reached into the pocket of her trench coat and in one deft movement had retrieved a box. Quinn's world stopped spinning as she recognised the gift for what it was, it was unmistakably a wrist corsage. The small container was pressed into her hand before she could even react.

"You didn't have to do this." Her eyes flickered from the brunette's face to the item in her lap; Quinn didn't think she had even been so terrified. Friends didn't buy other friends corsages. She hadn't dared to imagine that her evening could turn out like this, and yet here it was, the scene she had dreamed for countless nights, unfolding before her eyes. The blonde felt completely dismantled.

"Open it." Rachel urged breathlessly. With trembling hands, Quinn did as instructed. The flowers took her breath away, the beauty of them stealing her strength so that everything faded to grey. Her undoing was the existence of the recognisable green ribbon, tying the present and past irrevocably together.

"The colour matches my eyes." She mumbled, mostly to herself, awestruck. She had been sure that Finn had help in choosing her corsage all that time ago, it was too perfect to be a coincidence but she had never expected that Rachel had been behind it all. "I don't know what to say." Quinn admitted truthfully.

The other girl smiled sadly, unable to keep the fresh tears at bay. "Do you know what gardenias mean, Quinn?"

"Of course, I looked it up, they mean 'you're lovely', don't they?"

"They do, but they also symbolise secret love." Rachel narrowed the gap between them and took the blonde's hand in hers. "I tried to tell you that night, but I couldn't, and I missed my chance." The girl could relate, she had missed a million opportunities to confess. They had both been victims of bad timing.

Quinn exhaled, releasing a breath that she hadn't even registered holding. "Jesus, I can't believe this is happening. I think I've loved you since before I even knew what it meant, but I buried it. I didn't want to consider that I was more upset by the fact that Finn got to have you than I was about losing him, so I kept it all inside. Ironically it was Finn proposing, and the idea of losing you forever that was the final straw. By the time I made sense of it and realised that it had always been you, it was hopeless and I was so sure that everything was lost…until now that is." She fastened the corsage and gazed at it adoringly. It really was stunning, surpassing even the splendour of last year's offering. The girl couldn't tear her eyes away from the delicate petals and the tiny pearls that adored the flowers centres.

Rachel interrupted her pleasant daydream. "My wedding, the crash were you…?" The girl had clearly been eager to unburden herself of that particular thought and Quinn didn't blame her, she didn't like to dwell on the events herself, most notably for what could have been. It had been a close call on all counts, and she had spent a lot of the aftermath grateful not only to be alive but that the ceremony had been stalled.

She smirked grimly. "I wanted to stop it, but the universe apparently had other plans."

Rachel was distraught again. "Oh Quinn, we've wasted so much time, if only-" The girl didn't want to get bogged down with regrets and what ifs, she had amassed hundreds and had no need to acquire more. Tonight didn't have to be about that.

"The school year isn't over yet, we can still get it right." She declared boldly. She knew what she had to do, and it was all on her, because she was also aware that the other girl wouldn't be the one to act. The blonde had to make a move. Thankfully, an idea struck her in and Quinn didn't hesitate to clip the back of Rachel's ankle with her footrests, the contact just enough to unbalance the girl and nudge her into her waiting lap. It was an unexpected bonus of the wheelchair, a quirk that Quinn had discovered by accident and she couldn't wait to take full advantage.

"Hey!" Rachel protested as she fell, laughing. The blonde quickly silenced her, pressing her lips against the brunette's open mouth. The kiss that followed, a long time coming for both of them, was frantic, and full of the urgency of their pent up emotions bursting forth. Quinn was breathless as she pulled away to more carefully study the brunette, and she witnessed Rachel's chest was also heaving. The blonde hadn't even dared to close her eyes, not wanting to miss a moment. She wanted to pinch herself and prove that all of this was real.

"I think we should try that again." Rachel whispered, immediately initiating a second, less hurried, kiss. Quinn smiled into it and felt the other girl do the same, her head swimming. They stayed contently wrapped up in each other, savouring the seconds, until movement inside the building sent them both back down from the clouds.

"I can't go to prom with you, Rach."

The brunette frowned. "Please, Quinn, you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. Nobody has to know about us if that's what you're worried about, Kurt and Mercedes have their suspicions, but I'm sure we can persuade them that-"

The blonde cut her off again, mid speech. "It isn't that, it's just, look at me." She gestured to her clothing with a sigh, although a dress, it was hardly formal. Less than half an hour before it would have seemed unthinkable to her that she was considering going, much less feeling upset about it. She had almost not even brought the ticket with her, tucking it into her bag as an afterthought. Rachel, however, wasn't outwardly fazed by the wardrobe crisis.

"Do you want to be my date? Don't tell me yes unless you really mean it." Quinn looked at her shyly, a slight incline of her head betraying her intent. Ballots and dancing and any of that all stuff she had been so against, suddenly paled into triviality when compared to the appeal of spending time with the girl at her side. The blonde was breaking all her rules and she didn't care at all. Rachel grinned. "In that case, if you are sure, follow me." The girl began rolling herself behind the brunette without delay, intrigued by what other secrets she had concocted. The corsage had nearly floored her, so the blonde wasn't convinced that her heart wouldn't give out in light of what could potentially come next. She ignored the eyes that trailed the pathway she carved through the crowds; nothing mattered except the figure that persisted slightly ahead of her, holding her focus.

They reached the door of the store-room and the brunette beamed, holding the door wide open as she beckoned the other girl in. "Oh my god." They were the only words she could find. Concealed in the corner of the inconspicuous space she found Brittany and Santana, huddled in their dresses and wearing conspiratorial smirks. Even more startling was the awareness that the Latina was clutching what looked like a dry-cleaning garment carrier. Quinn didn't doubt that the black container was covering up a prom dress for her. The blonde glared at the Latina, totally amazed. "You devious bitch, I thought…"

"That I was torturing you." Santana grinned. "That was just a bonus. I had to get your measurements, your weight fluctuations are impossible to keep track of, even for pros like us and the hobbit would have killed me if I got the wrong size." Three pairs of eyes swivelled to glare at the cheerleader but the blonde didn't have the heart to be offended; her mind was utterly blown by everything that had taken place. Everything she thought she knew about her friends was wrong, and her life had been turned upside down. She could do nothing but grin manically. "We better get you into this thing or else the prom will be over before we get there."

Brittany nodded, giggling as she unzipped the dress free. "We thought you two were never going to come up for air!" Quinn's face flooded crimson. She didn't ask how Brittany had known what they had been up to, she didn't need to.

Rachel came swiftly to her rescue, reminding them of the task in hand. "We better get you ready." Between the four of them, they made quick work of getting Quinn prom worthy. Luckily the dress slipped on easily, a perfect fit and they had also remembered to buy some flat shoes that complimented the colour palette. The other girls were clearly impressed by their choices and the way the outfit came together; there was no masking the pride and joy reflected on their faces. Additionally the lack of a mirror proved to be a blessing since it meant that Quinn had no room to second-guess her appearance. She had option but to completely trust her friends.

Brittany effortlessly twisted her hair into an intricate braid, leaving only removal and re-application of make-up. It was decided that less was more, so that didn't take long either. "You look like a princess." She squealed excitedly, spinning her chair so that Quinn was twirling. They all took that as the final word, and even the cynical blonde found that she was rather pleased by the apt comparison. It was a night for fairytale endings after all.

"Thank you, all of you." It didn't feel like enough, but left the girls touched. They all knew that it was hard for Quinn to find the right means of expressing herself at moments like this. The girls all refused to cry and ruin their make-up, so forbid any more words from being exchanged. Transformation complete, they made the slow exit to a waiting Limo.

"You really did think of everything." Quinn gushed. With Rachel Berry there was nothing less than all bases thoroughly covered, but even she had excelled herself this time it seemed. A tear escaped in spite of all her determination and the brunette passed her a tissue wordlessly, her hand lingering as their fingers brushed against each other. The blonde was about to kiss the other girl again, unmindful of the two cheerleads scrutinising them and entirely certain that she never wanted to stop showering Rachel Berry with affection, when the girl spoke again.

"I just remembered, there's something I forgot to tell you." The blonde peered back at her intently. She was busy eagerly trying to decode whether or not she should be troubled by this statement, relaxing again only when the brunette smiled once more."Your corsage, this time I chose white violets."

Quinn could tell where this conversation was headed. Rachel never gave a gift half-heartedly, and had evidently done thorough research before choosing. "So, what do they mean?"

Rachel pressed her lips against the flesh of the other girl's wrist languidly, delaying her answer. The blonde bit her lip to stifle a gasp of pleasure at the sensation, and the brown eyes that watched her, darkened in response. The brunette had her right where she wanted her. Regardless, before things went too far, she pulled away, leaving Quinn torn between frustration and relief. The brunette whispered a reply with faltering breaths. "White violets mean, let's take a chance."


End file.
